Age Is a Number

(Photo Credit: Google Image)

When I was little and my father was teaching me to count, he stopped at 100 and I thought 1 to 100 were all the numbers in the universe. 

Consequently, when I applied that misconception to human age, it seemed incredibly dubious that people could live past the astronomical age of 50. I was 4, and only had enough attention span and brain to count to 50. I was convinced that 50 human years were about as long as anyone should reasonably live. 

"Because past 50 you're gonna run out of numbers to live. It just gets too hard to keep track of all the years. You won't remember how old you are." The four-year-old me would want you to know. "If you can't remember how old you are, then you're like––dead." I would extend both of my hands, palms heavenward, and frown. 

Needless to say, when my grandmother celebrated her 50th birthday, I was petrified with fear that she might die anytime. I made sure to be extra good at her house, so not to ruin her last days. 

My grandmother passed away a few months ago at the glorious age of 91, busting my childhood myth. Ironically, it was her daughter––my mother––who passed away on her 50th birthday, and I don't wish my childhood myth to be confirmed by anyone ever again. 

Fifty is a young age. Holy cow, I'm almost 50! And the thing is, the older I get, the more I want to do––to accomplish, to achieve––in life. One of which has always been going back to school. 

School is not only for the young. It's for the young at heart, too. Last winter I was accepted into the MFA in Writing program at Vermont College of Fine Arts. On the fist day of school, I was in the new students orientation when the oldest classmate was introduced: 91-year-old John*––a retired physician. 

"I've always wanted to do this, to learn to write," he said. "I'm so thrilled I finally get to do it."

He has all the physical features of a 91-year-old man: gray, wrinkled, hunchbacked––all that, and the determination of a 19-year-old boy. Watching him walk to every classes with a backpack behind him, slowly, carefully on the slippery, wintery Vermont sidewalk, I thought, "Whoa! He definitely doesn't look like someone who should've already been dead. He's alive and thriving; well and kicking." And I knew I wanted to be like John when I grow up. 

It's been said that age is only a number. I know it's true, especially when it comes to chasing your dream. Your age shouldn't have any power to stop you from living the life you've always wanted. You have the power to stop age from stopping you. 

You. Are. The. Boss.

And so, go back to school if you've always wanted to. Learn a foreign language. Write a book. Challenge yourself and live your dream. Live it beautifully!

*Name has been changed for the privacy of the said person. 



Allison

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